


Skip the Charades

by sunfair



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfair/pseuds/sunfair
Summary: Set in the summer between Shitty's graduation and the start of Lardo's senior year. One take on how they might have gotten together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [erciareyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erciareyes/gifts).



> So sorry this is late! Happy 'Swawesome Santa!
> 
> Title from the Cold War Kids song of the same name. Thanks much to blackbird for the beta.

Two days before graduation, Lardo hauls what she hopes is the last of her stuff-- a tall lamp and a clothes hamper-- into the Haus and up the stairs to Shitty’s room. It’s going to be weird to think of it now as her room and not Shitty’s. He’s still got a few boxes piled in the hall that he’s picking up at the end of the week, while all of her boxes are stacked inside, towering beside the lofted bed that he’s left for her. The whole thing is super weird, a low sense of discontent stirring in her chest.

“So, question,” he says, coming up the stairs and meeting her where the steps reach the second floor. He’s two shy of the top, his hand on the railing, and like this Lardo is still just barely taller than him. “And it’s totally cool if you can’t, or you just don’t want to, because it’s not like I even want to if I’m being fucking honest--”

“Want to what?”

Shitty makes a face, his nose wrinkling. “There’s this lunch-- thing. After graduation, and it’s kind of a big deal given that both of my parents have agreed to go and sit at the same table for the first time since I was, I dunno, fifteen or whatever.” Shitty suddenly studies the handrail, running his thumb along the wood grain. Lardo’s not quite used to the way his hair is so short now, trimmed so close over his ears. “And my mom asked me if-- ah. I mean. She said that if I wanted someone to go with, that I should ask you about it.”

“Okay,” Lardo agrees easily.

“You sure?” Shitty says, meeting her gaze again. “Because it’s gonna be awful.”

“Yeah,” Lardo replies. “I’ll go.”

“Like both sets of my grandparents, two of my uncles-- plus my cousin Blaine who is like, king of republican Massholes--”

“Shits,” Lardo interjects. “I said I’ll go.”

“I just want to make sure you understand what you’re agreeing to.”

“It’s lunch,” Lardo shrugs. “It’ll be fine.”

Shitty’s gaze softens, and he moves up to the next step so he can pull her into a hug. She rests her cheek to his chest, pressing against his tank top. “You’re my best fucking friend, okay?” he says fiercely, into her hair.

Lardo grins. “I’m telling Jack you said that.”

*  
The dining room of the country club overlooks the golf course through a wall of picture windows, and from where Lardo sits she can see the geese out on the pond. Beside her, Shitty keeps jogging his knee restlessly, despite the measured way in which he fields questions from his relatives and the calm, practiced formality of his responses. It goes about as well as Lardo expects it to; she smiles and listens as they discuss Harvard and its law school for most of the meal, as if she’s never heard of them. It’s not until the dessert course when one of Shitty’s uncles finally asks her about her major, responding to her answer with an amused, “Oh-- that’s charming.”

Lardo’s polite grin never falters. At the end of the meal she thanks Shitty’s parents individually for the invitation, and Shitty walks her out to the front, insisting on calling for a car to take her back to campus.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Shitty mutters once they’re finally alone, sagging with relief. “I’m so, so sorry about all of that shit.”

“Whatevs,” Lardo replies, shrugging one shoulder. “Coulda been worse. Food was decent.”

“Nah, c’mon,” Shitty says, his eyebrows pinching together in seriousness. “You’re like, the only thing even keeping me sane right now.”

“Yeah, well,” Lardo says, her thoughts trailing off as she looks up at him. She’s on the verge of making a joke, but the humor in the moment dissolves into the still air. She has no concrete idea of when she’s going to see him again, just abstract hopes of being able to steal some of his time once in awhile from now on, if she’s lucky. She’s perched on the verge of making an embarrassing and emotional scene.

“You wanna come to the Cape with me?” he asks in his quiet voice, which is the only way she knows he’s not kidding around. Shitty’s sincerity always comes out softer.

For a hot second Lardo lets herself imagine it-- the beach and the sun and the frivolousness of it all. She even goes so far as to try to justify it by picturing herself doing a ton of painting while she’s there-- boardwalks and stretches of sparkling sand and endless ribboned sunsets. The illusion departs just as quickly as she conjured it up, her unfocused gaze returning to the knot of his silk tie.

“And miss out on all the excitement of Dorchester? Not a chance.” Lardo’s not sure yet if she’ll end up at her uncle’s dry cleaning shop again, or maybe her cousin’s contracting office for the summer, but she knows she’ll have a job somewhere. Something mindless that will help whittle away the long days and give her a nice head start on the cost of her senior year art supplies.

The hired car pulls up, slowing to a stop at the curb. “Well, the offer’s always open, I mean it,” Shitty says. “Thank you for being here with me, Lards.”

“No prob,” she replies, and tucks her arms around Shitty as he hugs her. He’s warm and solid and his suit jacket is smooth against her skin.

“I’ll call you,” he says. “Like so fucking often, you’re gonna block me.”

Lardo huffs out a little laugh. “Yeah. Kay.” She starts to ease back, but Shitty holds on tighter for a few more seconds. Lardo bites her lip as her throat gets tight.

He stands there on the curb after she gets into the car, watching her until she turns the corner and out of sight.

*

They don’t talk on the phone quite as much as Shitty threatened, but they text almost constantly. Lardo puts in hours for her cousin and her uncle until she snags a part-time gig at a retail shop that sells an assortment of quirky gifts and trinkets-- stationery, books, and decorative items that Lardo expertly gift-wraps at no extra cost. There’s not much customer traffic from day to day, so she ends up with a lot of time to doodle in her sketchbook. The summer days lengthen, growing hotter.

Three weeks into June, she wakes up to an unexpected text from Shitty about meeting him for lunch. She picks a café up the block from the gift shop so she can make the most of her forty-five minute break. Even with texting non-stop, she feels like she has so much to tell him, so many things to catch up on.

When she walks in he has his phone pressed to his ear, talking quietly and sitting alone in a booth, dressed in a suit. His hair is a little longer, lightened by the sun, and he lifts a hand to wave at her silently when he looks up and sees her. He ends the call just as she slides in across from him.

“Hey,” she says, shifting to settle in her seat, smiling.

He grins back even bigger, sitting up tall. “I just landed such a huge fucking life-altering internship-- holy shit. Okay, so you know how my uncle-- not the weird one from upstate New York, but the other one...?”

Lardo just nods, and Shitty goes on, and on. He pauses only so they can finally order, and by the time she’s done eating, Shitty’s still talking, and Lardo is nervously watching the time.

“... but I don’t know, I mean, it could all just be a big coincidence. Who fucking knows? The point is, I’m back in Cambridge starting next week, so we can totally hang out all the time.”

“I have to go,” Lardo says, trying her best to keep her tone even.

“Already?” Shitty frowns.

“Yeah, dude,” Lardo replies, and doesn’t completely manage to keep the sharpness out of her words. “I have a job.” She flicks through the bills in her wallet, counting out her share of the check.

“Oh, hey-- I can get it,” Shitty says, digging out his own wallet from his pocket, and Lardo just ignores that, dropping her cash on the table before sliding to her feet. “I mean, uh… let me walk you back to work at least?”

Lardo pauses, silently waiting for Shitty to finish counting and scramble to his feet. Once he’s up she heads for the door. Her legs might be short but she can move fast when she wants to.

“I’m sorry, Lards,” Shitty says once they hit the sidewalk. “I totally didn’t realize--”

“I know,” she says. “It’s fine.”

“No, hang on--” he says, jogging a couple of steps to get in front of her. She stops abruptly, looking up at him. “I didn’t mean to--” he gestures vaguely with his hand. “You know. I wanna hear about your stuff, too.”

“I have, like, negative two minutes to get back to work.”

“I know,” Shitty says, remorseful. “Can we hang out when you’re done? I was gonna head back to the cape for dinner but I’d rather stay here.”

That little tug in Lardo’s chest springs up again, a weird mix of longing and muted affection. “Yeah. I’ll text you,” she says eventually.

“Thank you,” he says, and pulls her into a hug. “I missed you. I’m an oblivious prick who can’t shut up, but I seriously missed you, I swear.”

“Yup,” Lardo says, and Shitty squeezes her tight.

*

“You should come out to the cape for the fourth,” Shitty says, refilling his beer glass from the pitcher. “It’ll be chill, you know, barbecue, fireworks, the usual shit.”

The pizzeria is only about half full, pretty typical for a Wednesday night. They couldn’t agree on toppings, so the two halves of their pizza look wildly different.

“I have to work though,” Lardo says, plucking a stray piece of ham off the edge of her slice, depositing it on Shitty’s plate.

“On the holiday?”

“No, but. Day before, and day after.”

“What if I picked you up and brought you back? Then you wouldn’t have to waste all that time on the bus or the ferry or whatever.”

Lardo frowns crookedly. “That’s so much driving, though.”

Shitty’s quiet for a moment, scratching lightly at the side of his jaw. “Can I ask you something?” he says finally, his voice quieter.

“Yep.”

“And I want you to be-- I mean. Please just tell me the truth and I promise it’s fine.”

Lardo goes still, the seriousness and uncertainty of his words making her tense up. “Okay.”

Shitty inhales, letting it out slow. “Is it that you don’t like the idea of going out to the cape? Or is it just-- do you just not want to hang out with me?”

Lardo takes a second to process his question, but it still doesn’t make any sense. “We’re hanging out right now.”

“Obviously. What I mean is-- uh. You seem really opposed to the idea of making plans and I’m just trying to figure out what part it is you’re not wanting to do.”

“I’m not opposed to anything,” Lardo counters.

Shitty stays quiet again for a long moment. “Cool, okay,” he says eventually. “Uh. I guess, let me know, then, if you wanna come out, or… whatever.”

Lardo takes a sip of her beer, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll think about it.”

“So how’s your mom?” he asks abruptly, pulling another slice of pizza onto his plate. “Is your dad still driving her nuts with the gardening?”

It’s an out, and Lardo snatches it right up without hesitation. “Totes. He has fourteen tomato plants this year.”

“Good gravy,” Shitty says with a little laugh.

*

The last week of June slips quickly away, and Lardo doesn’t say anything about plans for the fourth, and Shitty doesn’t ask. He brings her a coffee at the gift shop the morning of the second, while he’s out running an errand as part of his new internship-- an iced vanilla mocha that she savors all the way up until lunchtime.

It’s not that she hates the idea of going to the cape. She’s never been, but she’s always pictured it as something like stepping into a Ralph Lauren commercial-- impossibly beautiful people doing nothing, but very intensely. And with a lot of lighthouses in the background. It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with Shitty, either; the opposite of that, actually. It’s just that their worlds are shifting, little continuous tremors that seem indicative of the potential for a huge rift. She’s just trying very hard to tread carefully, to not get swallowed up.

They don’t communicate at all on the third. Lardo’s pretty sure that Shitty’s just making an attempt to do the right thing by giving her space, but in the back of her mind she worries she’s only hurting his feelings and making everything worse. As her shift at the gift shop winds down she’s struck suddenly with an impulsive plan, one that has her rushing home and packing a bag in record time before heading right out again.

It’s a ninety-minute ferry ride from Boston to the cape, the boat jam-packed for the holiday, and Lardo decides to wait until she’s nearly there to call Shitty to come get her. She has the conversation all figured out in her head, hoping to wildly surprise him, but she’s the one who ends up surprised when he calls her first. She’s still fifteen minutes away, but she answers it anyhow.

“Shits, hi--”

“Lards-- hey, you picked up! Cool. So listen-- please don’t hate me, alright? I just-- I’m about ten minutes outside of the city, and I’m gonna grab some stuff at the store, and then I was really hoping I could try to talk you into--”

“Oh, fuck, seriously?” Lardo says, talking over whatever Shitty says next, and earning her a couple of surprised glances from the passengers around her.

“Wait-- what’d you say?”

“God damnit, Shits.”

“No, I know, but hear me out, okay? Please-- just for a second. There’s things I want to tell you-- shit I should have said a long fucking time ago, let’s be real-- but I need to say them to you in person, and it’s been driving me nuts not saying them--”

“Shitty-- shut up.”

“Larissa. Please.”

“Shitty! Just _listen to me_ ,” Lardo insists. “I’m on the damn ferry. I’m like ten minutes away from Provincetown.”

There’s a long pause before he replies. “Motherfucking fuck,” Shitty says softly. “Are you really?”

Lardo sighs, grinning. “I was trying to surprise you.”

“Well fuck me. Alright-- hang on, I can just turn around, and as long as I don’t hit too much traffic, I can get back over there in a couple hours maybe--”

“No-- don’t,” Lardo says decisively. “Just go to the Seaport and I’ll come back to the city.”

“But-- you already went all the way out there, and--”

“I don’t care about the cape, Shits,” Lardo says. “I just wanna see you.”

“You do?”

“Duh,” Lardo says. “C’mon.”

“Alright,” Shitty says fondly. “I guess-- I’ll see ya soon?”

“You better.”

*

Shitty’s mom lives in an elegant townhouse in Cambridge, three floors with hardwood and tall ceilings, and a library with bookshelves that stretch all the way up. There’s also a deck off the kitchen, wide glass doors that slide open, and a small yard shielded from the neighbors by tall, tailored shrubbery and climbing vines. She’s out of town for the holiday, and the house is quiet when Shitty and Lardo settle at the outside table with a six pack of Lardo’s favorite IPA and an assortment of snacks that Shitty grabbed from the store.

“Sorry it’s not, y’know, the grilled lobster we could be having,” Shitty says, upending a bag of tortilla chips into a bowl.

“Lobster is overrated,” Lardo says. “Guacamole is not.”

“True fucking story,” Shitty says, dropping into the chair beside hers and picking up his beer, tipping it to his lips.

Lardo studies his face for a long moment, the lines and angles of his features. There’s faint light filtering out from the kitchen through the sliding doors, highlighting the tip of his nose and the tops of his cheeks. He sets his beer bottle down and starts to pick at the corner of the label with his thumbnail, his forehead furrowed in quiet concentration. It’s not like Shitty to think so long instead of just saying whatever it is he wants to say.

“Sup?” Lardo asks quietly.

Shitty meets her gaze, his mouth twitching a little into a fond grin. “Nothin’,” he says. “Just thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

“You,” he says. “Getting on that ferry and not even telling me.”

Lardo takes a small sip of her beer, briefly breaking eye contact. “I was totes about to call.”

“What made you decide to do it?”

“Dunno,” Lardo says with a little shrug. “Just wanted to.”

Shitty shifts his gaze back to the label of his beer, huffing out a little half-laugh. “Kinda ironic, isn’t it?”

Lardo tilts her head slightly. “How so?”

Shitty shrugs a little and takes a long drink before he replies, gazing out toward the yard. “How we both made these huge moves but still ended up in different places.”

“Maybe,” Lardo says. “But it all worked out.”

“Did it?” Shitty asks.

“We’re here now.”

“Well-- true,” Shitty concedes.

Lardo swallows lightly, shifting a little in her chair. “So what is it you needed to tell me?”

Shitty laughs again, short and light, all nerves. “Hmmm. Uh-- yeah. Okay.”

He takes a deep breath, then stands up just enough to move his chair so that he’s facing her directly. The legs of it stutter across the deck with a scraping sound before going quiet as Shitty sits down again.

He leans forward a little, hands on his knees, shoulders hunched and his lips pressed together in a serious line. It makes Lardo think of him at Faber, on the bench between shifts, and that unwelcome tug of melancholy hits her all over again. She’s not sure what he’s about to tell her, but she’s suddenly terrified it’s that big earthquake arriving to swallow her right up.

“So basically, uh…” Shitty begins, his gaze dropping away immediately. “I just want to clear things up, I guess, because I’m not sure I’ve been entirely upfront about certain aspects of-- well. The stuff I’ve been thinking about for a long time now, and how I’ve felt-- uh. How I feel, I mean. About you, specifically. And I’m fucking this all up, I know, but what I’m trying to tell you is--” he pauses suddenly, exhaling fast and decisive. “You’re my best fucking friend. And I’m in love with you. Okay? There it is.” The volume of his voice lowers by half. “I love you.”

So it’s not an earthquake at all, Larissa manages to think, right before the swell of emotion rises from her chest into her throat, arresting her thoughts. It’s a tsunami.

She knows she needs to respond, to say something, to acknowledge his declaration and reciprocate it-- but her eyes are stinging, and all of her words are caught in the vice grip of her voice box. So instead she moves, surging forward to press her mouth to his, catching the gasp of his surprise just before their lips collide.

His mouth is soft and warm and thrilling, but it’s not a sustainable thing; she’s off-balance and crouching halfway up out of her seat. She lingers as long as she can before she has to stand up, pulling away and bracing one hand on the table. Shitty stretches up slightly to chase the kiss, pushing to his feet right after her. His eyes are wide and hopeful when he looks down at her.

“What is-- what does that mean? Are you--?”

Lardo just nods quickly, taking Shitty’s hands into her own, giving them a squeeze. “Yeah,” she manages to say. “I am.”

“Holy shit,” Shitty says, quiet and awed, and Lardo tugs on his hands to pull him in for another kiss.

It’s been awhile since Lardo kissed anyone, and even longer since she did so with someone who was this good at it. Shitty takes his time and gently touches her face as the kiss deepens, and Lardo’s whole body lights right up, all the way to her toes.

*

Shitty’s room is up on the top floor, and even though he’s only been in it for a couple of months, it’s just as much of a mess as his room in the Haus always was. There’s a full moon shining right into the large window, providing just enough light for Lardo to carefully study his face again, slow and deliberate this time, tracing the line of his eyebrow and the curve of his ear with her fingertips. They’re curled up together beneath the bedcovers, face to face, naked and tangled, warm and spent.

“Hey guess what,” she says, barely more than a whisper. Shitty’s eyes had drifted shut, but he blinks them open at her words.

“Hrm?”

“You’re super hot.”

He grins, pressing his face into the pillow. “Y’think so?”

“Yup.”

“Since when?” he asks.

Lardo hums softly, thinking. Her mind replays dozens of flashes through her years of memories-- kegsters, roadies, froyo runs, snowball fights, and hours of sitting out in the reading room. She can’t seem to find a turning point in any of it.

“Probs since at least Tuesday.”

Shitty goes still, tensing a little. “Only that recently? Really?”

Lardo grins, giving herself away, and Shitty slowly relaxes again. “Maybe even as early as Monday,” she teases.

“Cool, okay,” Shitty says, dropping a small kiss on her chin.

“Since always,” Lardo murmurs, sincere, and Shitty finds her lips with his own.

He hums quietly, happy, the sound turning to a sigh as Lardo shifts to bring herself closer. The sheets rustle slightly, Shitty’s hand presses firmly at her back, and Lardo settles in, steadfast and sure.


End file.
